Title: To Mend What Has Been Broken
Sequel to: By Some Evil Spell and Exiled
Author: Elizabeth Goode
Disclaimer: I have never made money from any sort of fanfiction whatsoever and am more than unlikely to ever benefit financially from such endeavors in the foreseeable future. So, no actual rangers or elves have been harmed in the making of this work of fanfiction. So there.

Estel reigned in his horse, and with a mindful glance to Elladan, dismounted before digging his map from his saddlebag. The sun was uncomfortably warm on his back, and sweat trickled down the back of his neck. The weather did not bother him – as a Ranger, he was used to the slight discomforts of outdoor life, and as a human raised among elves, he had a higher threshold of stoicism than other humans. He spread the map against the side of his horse, visualizing the terrain they had covered, letting his mind translate every hill and valley, every turn in their path onto the parchment. He then studied the parchment and gained a mental image of what was to come. Such skills had come easily to him since childhood, and he had always assumed that it was in some way in his blood.

"We have passed the three-fourths mark. We are nearly there …" A nagging worry in the back of his mind caused him to pause.

"We are nearly there, but what? I can tell from what you have not said that you perceive a problem." Elrohir dismounted and studied the map his brother held.

"The terrain gets trickier from here on out. Ithilien is a rocky place, especially near the border of Mordor. The orcs we have been trailing are likely headed for Mordor. As we continue, the chance of a surprise attack increases. There will be more places for them to hide."

Still seated in his saddle, the Prince of Mirkwood laid a hand on top of his human friend's head in a gesture of calming, laughing softly when the young human wriggled out from under his hand.

"I am not a puppy to be petted!" Estel grumped in protest.

"No, you are not. Forgive me if I am overly demonstrative. We elves have none of the prideful restrictions on affection that you humans seem to prize so very much." Legolas feigned an injured sniff.

It was true. Among the Rangers, it was uncommon for one man to touch another with affection – affection was felt, but it was alluded to, or demonstrated in privacy rather than openly. Having grown up among elves, Estel had become used to being hugged, having his hair ruffled regularly, receiving kisses to his forehead and cheek. If his head ached, Elrond or one of the twins would stroke his hair or massage his temples until a healing draught took effect. If he had a sore back, he could count on a healing liniment liberally applied. During his most recent outing with the Rangers, admittedly some months ago, Strider recalled the determined awkwardness with which poor Halbarad had applied a healing plaster to a bone-deep bruise caused by an orc's shield. The man had been gentle, but was clearly unused to seeing his fellow Ranger in a state of undress. The bruise had extended from his back to his left hip, and treating the injury had been as embarrassing for both men as it had been necessary. Strider often found that Estel missed the easy affection of his elven family.

He sighed, matching Legolas' feint. "I suppose that if I've hurt your feelings, I should apologize and allow you to manhandle me as you see fit. I find that I do not mind it, especially if you give a good scratch every now and then."

Unable to hide his grin, Legolas captured the young human's head with an arm under his chin and rubbed his knuckles across the top of his head, thoroughly tangling the already straggling dark hair. "I'll show you manhandling, human!"

"Not if I get you first! Watch out for your perfect, prissy braids, Prince of Mirkwood, for they are no longer safe after what you have started!"

Elladan cleared his throat loudly. "If the two of you would stop your rough-housing and concentrate on the task at hand?"

Guiltily, the elf and ranger ceased their horseplay.

"Right. As I was saying, before I was interrupted by a prissy, head-patting elf –"

Legolas interrupted him. "As the messy-haired human in need of a bath was saying, as the terrain becomes rockier, the more dangerous this mission becomes. We must not be taken by surprise by orcs. We can use the terrain to our advantage as well. If they can hide among the rocks, so can we."

"Precisely." Estel agreed. "And, I do not need a bath. Out here, I would just get dirty again anyway."

That night as they camped, a plan was established for dealing with the possibility of meeting orcs in battle. Each night, two stood watch at a time. One would patrol the borders of the camp, while another periodically scouted ahead for danger. They would trade duties several times each night. From that night on, the plan was followed religiously. It left them cranky from lack of sleep, but naps could be taken during the day, when orcs were not about.

Estel found that he was glad of the extra precautions, not only because of the extra safety, but also because the less he slept, the less likely it was that he would be plagued with nightmares. The dreams were often so severe that upon waking, it sometimes took him several moments to be able to discern reality from dream. The shame he felt the morning after one of his dreams made his face burn with embarrassment. It had been bad enough when only Legolas knew, but now that his brothers knew, he felt as though he was under a magnifying lens.

The fire burned at the center of the camp, and Estel warmed his hands in its glow. Near the fire, Elladan and Legolas slept soundly, snug in their bedrolls. The nights were growing steadily chillier as autumn progressed, and it was Elrohir's turn to scout the perimeter of their camp for any sign of danger. When he returned, Estel would go out again. A slight snapping of twigs caused the young Ranger's head to snap erect. Elrohir? It was unlikely that the elf would have made such a sound. Elves were stealthy even when they weren't trying to be. One hand on the hilt of his sword, Estel turned around slowly, listening for any further sound, any indication that it would be necessary to wake Elladan and Legolas. Nothing came. He strained his eyes against the night, staring into the trees to find any trace of danger. Just outside the range of his vision, he thought he saw a shape sliding into the shadows, but when he blinked, it was gone. It could have been an animal – perhaps a wolf or a deer …

A hand touched his shoulder from behind, startling him so violently that his heart nearly stopped beating from the shock. He whirled around, prepared to face orcs, wargs, or any number of terrible things, only to look into the face of Elrohir.

"Estel? Is everything all right?"

Sighing heavily, Estel brushed his hand through his hair in a gesture of relief. "I – I heard something, and I felt as though I might have seen something. It looked like a shadow – probably an animal, but – "

Elrohir shook his head. "No, Estel. Not an animal. I saw it too. Rather, I felt it. We are being watched."